During my senior year at Xavier University, one of the country's great Jesuit higher-education institutions, the Musketeers second round match-up in the 2007 NCAA Tournament against heavily favored Ohio State was one that I will never forget...although parts of it I don't quite remember. Not only did I watch with about 40 of my closest friends, all hoping for the best while expecting the worst, but we sat cramped together in a small living room. It was all part of the St. Patrick's Day festivities.

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I blog about, and therefore infrequently attend, college basketball games. I wasn't at last year's epic Syracuse-UCONN Big East Quarterfinal game. My recollection of one of the most fascinating four hours of television will probably sound no different from everyone else who tuned in, stayed up, got confused, witnessed history, and then tried to fall asleep with adrenaline racing through their body.

For a much more interesting perspective, I leave it to ESPN.com's Dana O'Neil. She was there are March 12, 2009 (and March 13). She saw it live, and is a much better writer.

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I am always fascinated by the head coach of an overachieving team. How does George Mason's Jim Larranaga, thrust from obscurity into the Final Four, remain so composed and project to the media in a way that convinces us he knows exactly how to handle his new found fame? This also applies to Stan Heath when he led Kent State to the 2002 Elite Eight, Bruce Pearl in 2005 when he was coaching Wisconsin-Milwaukee and, of course, St. Joseph's Phil Martelli during his near unblemished 2003-2004 season.

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The scene: Cole Field House; College Park, Maryland.
The crime: Theft, and a lot of it. All caught on camera.

In 2001 Duke was king, and Maryland was just trying to be the heir apparent. It was a nice time in my life.  Admittedly, I grew up a Dookie. As a young boy learning the difference between right and wrong, I immediately became infatuated with Grant Hill’s pristine image, and Christian Laettner’s floppy hair. Hitting a turnaround jumper in the Elite Eight looked like a lot of fun; maybe someday I could do the same. So as the years went on, I became the type to cry, even die a bit inside, when Duke came up on the short end. Basically, I was a little bitch.

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